Slight Detours | Wattys 2015

(13) JARED

I wake to the commonly identifiable sound of potato chips crunching underfoot. It must be Mac again, leaving remnants of his previous snack wherever he pleases. Cuffing hands around my ears in an attempt to muffle the disturbing crackling noise, I flip myself around on the couch. My intuition told me it was morning, which meant that I’d fallen asleep without having dinner last night, which meant that my stomach was empty, which explained the clenching ache right by my abdomen.

I let out an involuntary groan.

“Mom, I need some Advil!” I mutter incoherently, my face still pressed against the soft bedding. I slam my fist down multiple times in an attempt to get her attention, but she either isn’t listening or doesn’t want to listen.

Assuming I’d bring this up later, she’d ordinarily repeat the same phrase she’s been telling me for the past few years, I don’t have time, honey. I suppose all she ever has time for these days is Lucy, who, in my defense, isn’t even a genius.

I sigh, hearing any more crackling noises. Mac knew I hated being woken up unnecessarily- and by “unnecessarily” I mean on a regular basis. My ears were especially sensitive, but not in a superhuman-like way. Oddly, I was more sensitive to noise when I was asleep or was in a state when I didn’t want to be bothered.

It was weird, no doubt, but nothing wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary since, you know, my whole family was weird. Besides, it didn’t matter much as long as nobody broke my rule regarding the subject.

No waking me up.

“Jared wake up!” Someone nudges my shoulder. “Wake up!”

“Go way,” I mumble sluggishly, swatting away whoever decided to aimlessly pry me out of bed. They were destined to be unsuccessful. “Don’t you people understand what ‘no waking me up’ means? I thought we already established the rule.”

“What rule?” A girl’s voice echoes. I don’t recognize it as mom, nor Mac’s girlfriend, nor any girl in school I’m familiar with. Somehow, though, she sounds familiar.

I peek through the cocoon of limbs and blankets I’ve wrapped myself in to see intent crystal blue eyes staring at me. She has on brow arched playfully, a heart-shaped face, and bright wisps of light blond hair framing her features. Suddenly, everything comes back to me in one electrifying haze.

“Ally?”

“Who did you think it was, idiot?”

Oh, I don’t know, my mother? I think to myself, stifling a laugh by gnawing on my inner cheek. She glances at me suspiciously, a snide look following shortly afterwards.

“Nothing. You’d hit me if I told you,” I murmur.

“Oh, I believe you,” Ally counters severely without a tinge of light-heartedness or humor to her tone.

There are a deep creases underneath her eyes, identical to the ones I suspect myself having as well. Even if she did get enough rest last night, the night before that was a restless one. I, personally, haven’t slept soundly since the day before the party. Granted, we were both feeling tired, taken out by the past two days’ activities- mishaps and fortunes alike.

It’s during times like these when I begin to doubt my decisions. It is known for a fact that all paths have their consequences, so when given a choice, one must merely go for the path which offers the least adversity.

I eminently doubt that that was what was going through my mind at the time. I’d been thinking that, so far, all my life has been one-noted, nothing special. I wasn’t Vince the quarterback, or Mac the ladies’ man who everyone adored. I was just Jared, brother of the said titled individuals.